


The Infinite

by wandererandmore



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Clubbing, Coming Out, Crying, Dating, Emotional Hurt, Falling In Love, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Oh god, Partying, Pining, Sexuality, Underage Drinking, Unrequited Love, ha ha came, harry likes complicated, i have never written smut, if it came to it, liam and zayn are there for louis, louis is complicated, niall is harry's best friend who is too encouraging, so i would do my best, sorry - Freeform, there may be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 12:33:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6079491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandererandmore/pseuds/wandererandmore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the one where harry is a piano prodigy, louis has trouble letting people in but has no trouble keeping secrets (especially when it relates to his health or his feelings for harry), zayn and liam are really just there for louis and offering their moral support, and niall is niall (and that falls with being harry's best friend).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a long time ago i came up with this idea for a story and i always held back because i didn’t feel i was educated medically enough and i am still not but it was a story that never left my mind so i wanted to give it a try and please remember for the future of this fic that i am no doctor so if anything is incorrect, i apologize and would like to make those corrections if needed. to not be totally false with the story, i have used inspiration from me and earl and the dying girl (the film, sorry pals i don't really have much time for reading) when it has to do with louis’ illness, if you have seen it, then do know louis will have the same diagnose (spoiler but not really, whoops)
> 
> another note, this is not a story with a happy ending or maybe it will be my mind changes a lot but mostly i just hope anyone reading enjoys it
> 
> another note: this is my first larry fic so bare w me and there are obvious changes when relating to the boy's personal lives (like the age harry is when his parent's divorced) so don't be alarmed when they are made, i wanted to keep this as fictional as possible so yeah thanks pals and again, enjoy (hopefully)

“So let me get this straight—Louis Tomlinson, the fucking Louis Tomlinson invited you to one of his parties and you rejected his proposal?” Harry Styles stared at his best friend, Niall, whose mouth was opened agape resembling the fish he used to have when he was seven as he attempted to process this information. Harry was getting bored of the conversation because they had gone over it already about five times, and he was even slightly embarrassed at the state of shock his best friend was in because it added to the knowledge that people like Louis did not speak to people like Harry.

People like Louis, who were the school’s best known football player, who everyone knew and liked, and wanted to be friends with, or desired to be with did not speak to people like Harry, who was invisible to a majority of his peers and the only thing being known of his existence was that he was some sort of piano playing loser that was constantly praised by the school for his talent. He kind of hated how cliché it all was—Louis was a part of the in crowd, Harry wasn’t.

“I didn’t reject the invitation, I just didn’t agree to it either.”

“So what did you say to him?”

“I said maybe.”

“So you basically said yes.”

“No.”

“No—did you just—are you seriously not going?” Niall looked at Harry with wide eyes. Harry shrugged.

It wasn’t that Harry didn’t want to go, he just had more important things to focus on at the moment. He had been working on an original piece for a few weeks now that he wanted to perfect for his audition that would determine whether or not he would be accepted into his dream college; he just couldn’t get it quite right. The audition was a little less than a year away, but Harry wanted to create something that would fit to his idea of perfection ahead of the expected date. Sure, he had some time before the audition—a lot of time—but Harry was the kind of person to do things earlier than when needed or necessary. He liked being ready, that was it. He didn’t like the feeling of not being ready and prepared for something, of not feeling secure and not knowing what would happen. It all made him feel uneasy, something he wasn’t the biggest fan of. So maybe that was why he was afraid to take up Louis’ offer. Harry couldn’t even understand how he even ended up with an invitation to the most popular guy at school’s party.

The first time Harry interacted with Louis was about three weeks ago. Harry had been practicing after school in the theatre instead of the music room, because something about it made him feel safe and comfortable. It was dark in the large room and the few lights illuminated the stage and it gave it this warm kind of feeling he only experienced under the lights—the feeling he would get from playing his piano. Harry loved it. After he rehearsed two songs of his own, he had been nearly scared out of his seat when he heard the random applause come from the audience he had presumed to be vacant. Towards the exit doors stood Louis Tomlinson. He was clapping.

The thing was, Harry was positive that he didn’t have a troubled heart. No one in his family had any known past records of any sort of heart condition that later enabled them to go on in life or any sort of tragic scenario of heart troubles that resulted in their demise. He was more than positive. However, when his eyes came across an applauding and grinning Louis Tomlinson in the theatre, he was also positive he had gone into cardiac arrest or something.

Saying Louis Tomlinson was just some popular boy at his school felt like an understatement; because he wasn’t just that he was more. He was the boy who Harry had a crush on since he attended the first footie game when he was fifteen, it was the boy who Harry had learned to only admire from afar, whether it be from the bleachers as he watched him play and win games for the team, or whether it was around the school, as he walked around with his brilliant smile and filled the halls with his loud laughter and voice; it was the boy who confirmed that Harry was indeed not straight. And because of that all, he wasn’t just some popular boy. Not to Harry, anyway.

Needless to say, Harry’s heart had kind of went crazy when he noticed his figure. He was even surprised at how collected he reacted when Louis began speaking to him, complimenting his playing, saying the music was depressing and beautiful but mostly depressing. They spoke for about five minutes about things Harry couldn’t even remember that didn’t include what Louis had been doing in the theatre even though Harry was genuinely curious. Why had he been here anyway? They just spoke until Louis received some call and apologized and explained he had somewhere to be. And Harry wasn’t surprised. It was Louis Tomlinson.

He was always needed somewhere, always out and about. He was always running.

Harry wanted so badly to catch him.

Then they finally began to acknowledge each other when they came across one another in the school halls or in the cafeteria, or other parts around the school. They usually would just smile and nod and go on with their lives, but that changed earlier this afternoon, when Louis sat with Harry at lunch and invited him to his party. Harry didn’t know what to make of it. He was a nobody. Why would somebody like Louis want a nobody like Harry at his party? It scared him shitless. He could only jump to the conclusion that it was some joke—some prank. Most of these ideas derived from the chick flicks he watched often with his older sister but so what? It was all just so fucking weird.

“I’m not going.”

Niall smacks the back of his head with his hand. Harry turns to look back at his best friend with a glare and a roll of his eyes and he turned forward again to his desk, as he ignored the hit and collected his sheet music and stacked it neatly over his desk.

“You must! He went up to you and invited you. Louis Tomlinson doesn’t do that!” Niall tried to argue. It was comical the way his hands rose up as if in prayer.

“You don’t even know Louis!”

“But I could if you went out to the party and charmed his ass off with serenading him or whatever the fuck!” Niall began to get on his knees. “This could change our reputations forever.”

“I don’t sing Niall. I play an instrument.”

“That’s beyond the point! You could sing if you wanted to, though. Don’t think I haven’t heard you in the shower.” Harry blushes at his words. Niall continues, “And like if you go and become his boyfriend or whatever, then you’ll become popular and I will become popular by association as well!”

“Isn’t it meant to be famous by association instead of popular by association?”

“Shut up.”

Harry rolls his eyes again. “You’re just using me to get you popular or whatever,” Harry laughs. “Why are we friends again?”

“We’re friends because you love me.”

“Well…”

“You love me so much that you’re going to the party!”

He was on his knees begging for Harry to go attend this party and Harry almost did go forward with this, but he relented when he thought the whole situation over again. What would his presence make at the party anyway? Nobody knew him and Louis would probably be enjoying the company of his other friends. They weren't even friends for crying out loud! They just would occasionally greet each other and that was after almost three years of attending the same school. They were barely acquaintances.

“I’m not going to the party.”

“Ugh, why do you hate me so much?” Niall stood up and wiped his pants at the knees. Harry just blew him a kiss and Niall flipped him the bird. Niall swung his bag over his back as he noticed Harry grabbing his pencil and moving to his piano, he knew that this meant Harry was going to try to complete this song he was working on and he didn’t like to be disturbed when he was working on his music. Niall was the same.

They had been friends since the choir requested the guitar and piano teachers to send their best student players to assist them with the background music for their upcoming performance. Niall and Harry were both nominated from their teachers and began to rehearse after school with the choir group and later they would all head to this small food shack around the corner, and after it was over, they continued to make plans to hang out after it all and thus their friendship was born after they bonded over their love for music and how great fries were. Niall was also the first person Harry came out to. The boy had accepted him and hugged him so hard he could barely breathe, talking about how proud of Harry he was and how he always wanted a gay friend to go a gay club with to see if any guys would hit on him, which Harry had snorted at. Harry couldn’t help but love this weirdo.

“Before you go Niall, we don’t even know if Louis is gay so your plan wouldn’t have worked anyway, you know.” He thought he should at least mention this. All throughout high school, Louis was only rumored to have been hooking up with girls, though once people said he got drunk and made out with some college guy at a party they all had snuck into. It was just a rumor as the rest though, so nothing should be taken too seriously.

There was also the fact that if Louis were gay, he wouldn’t be into Harry.

“Harry, who wouldn’t fall for you?” Niall sends him a teasing wink before shutting the bedroom door. Harry falls into his chair with a frown.

Niall was being ridiculous. Louis who was up there with the stars and the moon—he was the stars and the moon. Hell, he was even the fucking sun. Meanwhile, Harry was down below with the dirt and the rocks. They were two different kinds of people from two different kinds of worlds.

Harry soon concludes that he cannot focus on writing; all he can think about are thin, pink lips and bright blue eyes.

It’s what he dreams about too.

*

The next day at school nothing out of the ordinary happens, along with the day after that and the next—the whole week. Harry can’t help but feel disappointed that nothing happened. He doesn’t exactly know what he wanted to happen and it wasn’t like he imagined Louis would search him down around the school and demand to know exactly why he didn’t attend his party. Louis and he weren’t friends so he doesn’t get why he would believe Louis would care this much about him not being at his party.

He wouldn’t ever admit this aloud, but a part of him wanted Louis to care.

He just can’t stop wishing that something did happen, but it didn’t so he began to feel like a fool for forgetting that they did not mesh together. Not in this world, not in the next—never.

Louis was unreachable and in his mind, Harry for some unknown reason continued to reach.

So the days went by and people talked about how great a night it had been at the party, they shared the secret and latest hookups and all the gossip teenagers always discussed about people they didn’t really care about except to use for a conversation and the talk just continued on for the first week. Niall would catch Harry’s eyes and pout at him for not having gone to this event and Harry would feel even worse about it.

Then he began to remember how insignificant a person he was and how it really didn’t matter that he didn’t go, as no one had noticed (as Louis hadn’t noticed). He tried to not be bothered by it and would attempt to distract himself with practicing and writing as much as possible.

It made things go by easier.

That was until Louis showed up at the theatre when Harry was practicing. It was the second time Louis came to watch Harry perform on his piano—or at least somehow ended up there when he was playing. Harry really didn’t know what Louis was doing at the theatre. He was just there.

Louis doesn’t interrupt Harry as he plays; he doesn't speak up or ask a question nor does he clap when he finishes like the first time. He just watched him throughout it all and remained quiet which the music came to an end. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he arched his body in the direction of Louis. He was closer than the first time he came and watched Harry play and was actually sitting down this time, his chin resting on his palm. Harry began to wonder why he came here and whether or not it was coincidence, and then whether or not he should speak up and break this awkward silence.

Fortunately but also unfortunately, Louis does it for him.

“You didn’t come to my party.”

Harry had wanted the silence to end but he wasn’t so sure now as he felt even more uncomfortable than before and he just—he felt embarrassed and weird and awkward. He began to regret wishing for something to happen because now that something did, he wanted to crawl under a rock and hide away for the rest of his life. A part of him deep inside was jumping with joy however, because he had noticed—he noticed Harry’s absence.

Louis had a strange expression, there was some sort of unknown determination in his gaze but his eyebrow was raised in a quizzical way, as though he were urging Harry to give him some grand and important excuse. Harry didn’t have one.

“Why?” He presses a question out.

“I didn’t think you would notice—or that it would, like, matter.” Being honest felt like a good route to go at first but now it all sounded pathetic. How could he admit something like that in front of Louis? Louis who could be anywhere else right now, Louis who was everything Harry was not…Louis who had found Harry and asked him why he didn’t go to his party. Harry’s heart raced in his chest.

“I did notice.” Louis stands up from his seat and begins to walk up the aisle as he wore a displeased look. “And it did matter. It mattered a lot, Harry.”

“What—Why?” The questions came out before Harry could stop them. If Harry wasn’t embarrassed before, he definitely was now.

Louis laughs, “You’re so cute when you’re flustered.” Harry cheeks blaze with the comment. Louis called him cute. “Even cuter when you blush, I see.” Harry now believes it was possible for every part of his body to blush as every bit felt warm.

Harry doesn’t know how to reply without humiliating himself more so he opts out of giving a response to the cute comments by apologizing for not attending Louis’ party. Louis smiles up at him. Harry’s heart does a thing. Louis keeps doing things to Harry’s heart; he’s got a talent for it, apparently.

“It’s fine, you didn’t miss out much anyway. It’s the same faces, same drinking and same life. Everyone is such a bore after a while.” Louis shrugs as he walks up the stairs to the stage and with ease walks to Harry. Harry doesn’t know what he means by that, never having attended any party like those hosted by the more popular kids around, but he pretends to understand what he means. He’s now in front of Harry. “Aren’t you going to let me sit?” Harry didn’t know he was capable of blushing so much. He scoots anyway. “And besides,” Louis plays a random high key. “I wanted you all to myself.”

Harry is quiet for a moment. This was happening for some reason he couldn’t quite comprehend, was there even one? Why was Louis sitting here next to him, telling him it mattered that he didn’t attend his party and how he wanted him to himself. All to himself. Was he flirting? Was he trying to play some trick on Harry? Harry exhales, “Louis, what do you want from me?”

Louis seems taken aback by his question. He pursed his lips for a short second before grinning at Harry, “I want to be friends.”

“You want to be friends?”

“Correct.”

“Don’t you have a lot of friends?”

“The more the merrier.”

“Why would you want me as a friend?”

Louis shrugs and stands, pulling out of his pocket a folded slip of paper. Harry could have sworn he saw him wince at something but the flash of pain that was once on his face disappears as quickly as it had come. He pushes the slip into Harry’s hands, the slight contact causing Harry’s body to warm at the touch.

“You’re beautiful.”

Then he leaves, leaving Harry with a folded note in hand and even more confused.

 

The note Louis had given Harry contained an address written in sloppy handwriting, telling him to be there at eight o’clock on Sunday and to wear something spiffy. With nerves, Harry had decided to go and meet Louis wherever this place was, the address being familiar to Harry but he refuses to respark his memory on the place, wanting to be surprised. He had considered telling Niall about this, but he wasn’t sure yet what it was about and he didn’t want Niall to put some crazy scenario inside his head about how great this could be, and if he was going to get humiliated in some way, he would prefer if he weren’t there to witness the scene.

Harry just hopes Louis was telling the truth about wanting to be friends. Harry would actually like to be more than friends but he would settle with what he could get. A life with Louis just seemed like something nice—actually, that seemed like a way to put it down, a life with Louis seemed like it would be extraordinary. Harry hadn’t hung out with him for more than five minutes since their first actual encounter but every time he was with him, no matter how short the time was they were together, he felt this sort of uncertainty and strange sensation in his stomach. He was not a fan of not knowing what was going to happen and that sense of not knowing came whenever he was with Louis, but it was different, it was a special kind of feeling. It was nice. Everything was nice with Louis.

It was small, but already this boy was changing him.

He liked not knowing what would come of him and Louis. He actually liked not knowing for once and that began to scare the shit out of him even more because that wasn’t the type of person he was. He was constantly stressing over not knowing the outcome of all things but now, he was not minding to take the chance with this boy he barely even knew. He knew this was all a risk but he still woke up extra early on Sunday and spent two hours getting dressed in a blazer and his best skinny jeans and spent two more hours trying to get his hair just right. This wasn’t even a date but Harry prepared as though it were one. He still checked his reflection in the mirror more than twenty times and even more when he parked in front of the building, with its grand stature and complex design. It was a theatre.

He was beginning to realize the fear of not knowing was not exactly fear in this current situation—it was excitement.

Harry hadn’t had much excitement his entire life. After his parent’s divorce when he was eleven, he became settled on doing what he could to make everything easier on his mother. He wanted to become that ideal child, the one who listens and does good in school; he wanted to be the child parents dream to have. He wanted to be that for his mother, because he knew how she hurt and how she struggled and he didn’t want to add to that. So he became that. He went to school, he came home and did his homework and chores and continued with that simplistic routine for the years to come, picking up the piano along the way. Up to that moment, the most excitement Harry felt was when he played, whether it was for a school concert, or whether it was auditioning for other events. Music gave him joy and it thrilled him to have that, but besides that he didn’t really have anything else to feel passionate for or about. That didn’t really bother him until he spoke to Louis three weeks ago.

He had always been that person who had an average life, he had always been known for his talent, he had always done his best for his mother. Harry had lived a pretty mundane life and as he walked into the theatre, he knew that was all about to change.

He was putting his heart out on the table.

Harry walked to the entrance of the theatre, feeling unsure of whether to wait outside or go inside. After short contemplation, he decided to go inside to find an employee for assistance and ask if Louis Tomlinson had scheduled something or bought tickets for a show or just something because a sudden fear crept into his chest that maybe Louis was standing him up and it was some ploy made by him and his footie teammate friends and right now they were all laughing their asses off because they knew Harry would have actually shown up.

“You know, I wasn’t sure you were going to come.” Louis’ voice was heard from somewhere behind him. Harry feels instant relief at the sound, hating himself for having thought of such an insane scenario. He couldn't really blame himself for having a lack of confidence and so little faith on this boy. They still weren't actual friends.

Harry turned around and came face to face with him, startling and beautiful blue eyes meeting his green ones. Louis was wearing a maroon sweater that hung low on his chest, exposing his sharp and defined collarbones, his thighs bulging tightly in his black pants. Harry could only imagine how great his ass looked.

“You don’t really know me.” Harry said simply.

The shorter boy smiled, “And there you are right, Styles.” He walked past Harry farther into the building, passing the lobby and lead them into a low lighted hall and Harry with a short breath followed quickly behind him. Despite his short legs, the boy was pretty damn fast on his feet. “I do know some things about you though.” Louis says and Harry could hear the smile in his voice as he continued, “I know that you play the piano and that you probably have something big coming along considering that you practice quite frequently and you write your own songs.” He talks as he walks and Harry is silent as he listens to his raspy voice. It was very soft and warm. “I know,” Louis pauses and laughs gently, turning to finally look at Harry. “I know that you willingly chose to meet a boy you have barely spoken to at a place you've never been to—considering how awestruck your face is right now—and that you don’t worry that this boy could maybe kill you and dump your corpse in a lake to rotten or something.”

“Alright, now I’m worried.”

Louis laughs out loud, throwing his head back. Harry did that. He made Louis laugh that hard. He feels some strange sense of satisfaction and thinks of that as an accomplishment. He wonders if he could put put that in his applications for universities under the list of accomplishments.

“If anything Harry, you’ll be the death of me.”

Harry doesn’t ask what he means by this. He smiles instead. He hopes it was a good thing.

Louis turns a few more corners and comes to a halt in front of a large door. With his small hands, he opens the door and makes space for Harry to enter before him. The room is still dark and under any other circumstances and with a totally different person, Harry would be convinced he was walking into his own death, but right now, the nerves he felt made his hands shake in anticipation as he stepped inside; he felt exhilarated.

“Jesus, Harold, you are too trusting.”

“It’s Harry.”

“I know, Harold.”

Harry ignores the nickname. “Should I not trust you?”

Louis doesn't answer immediately. He first enters the room himself, shutting the door behind him and he sees to know his way around the poorly lit area as his footsteps are heard as he walks. It’s audible when Louis mutters something to himself, before releasing a relieved sigh as he flips a switch and suddenly the room is filled with light, the grand and elegant design being exposed. Harry’s mouth drops as his eyes travel around the room, taking note that it looks like a proper grand theatre, a place he could only dream to be performing at when he is older. On the stage, he takes notice of the black piano sitting alone with some wooden basket resting on the seat next to it. Harry raises a brow.

“About the not trusting me,” Louis begins as he fixes his sweater. “You don't really know me.” He repeats the words Harry had spoken earlier and Harry hates how easily this boy makes him blush. They both walk alongside each other up the long aisle.

“I hear things.”

“Good things?”

“Mostly.”

Louis laughs.

“Enlighten me.”

“You are the one behind the big prank last year, where all the teachers cars were sprayed with silly string and filled with balloons.”

“It was fun,” Louis smiles at him.

“I figured it was true.” Harry says. Harry ponders for a short moment before he mentions another rumor. “People have said that you beat up Elliot Wiggins for cheating on your sister.”

“Well if a knuckle to the face is beating up, then sure.” He shrugged carelessly. “I will admit that I broke his nose,” He speaks with such nonchalance.

“You protect the people you love then?”

“Of course.”

“That's admirable.” Harry whispers. It was the first compliment he's given Louis since they first started speaking and he wish he'd done it much sooner because of the way the smaller boy’s eyes lit up.

“It's what's right,” He shrugged again, brushing off the comment. Then he asks, “What’s something bad you've heard?”

“The prank wasn't bad?”

Louis snorts, “C’mon Harold, tell me something juicy. What kind of scandalous things have I been up to, hm?”

“Well there is this one rumor…” Harry pauses as he trails his fingers across the red chairs they pass. “You hooked up with a guy—a college guy.” They're at the stairs that lead up to the stage. Harry is unsure whether to go up so he stops where he is. Louis had also slowed behind him when he voiced the previous gossip he had heard around the school. Harry fears he had offended him or something and he's close to apologizing about the statement, but Louis speaks before he could.

“Is this your way of asking me if I'm gay?”

Harry nearly choked. He opens his mouth but then closes it, then repeats this several times, not knowing how to reply because it was partly true. He feels embarrassed now.

“Harold, you look like a fish. Calm down, I was only teasing. Come on, I'm starving and I didn't pack a lunch for us for it to just sit there.” He avoided confirming or denying the rumor, which made Harry somehow even more curious, but he left his curiosity behind as he focused on something else Louis had said.

Louis had referred to them as an us and Harry felt like his heart could burst. It was something so small, probably something Louis hadn't thought twice about, but it had meant everything to Harry for some peculiar reason. He just liked them being an us. He follows Louis up the stairs. Harry thinks he would follow him anywhere.

“I’m sorry about the—yeah, I just heard it going around the school and you asked and—”

“It’s fine, Harold. You're not the first to be curious about whether I like cock or not.”

Harry nearly asks do you but chooses instead to bit his tongue because it's rude and disrespectful and definitely not any of his business.

(He also likes the way Louis says cock.)

“There's also another rumor,” Harry decides to change the subject and Louis takes the basket, opening it, revealing a blanket. He takes it out and sets it on the stage floor, then grabs the basket and sits down cross legged. He pats the spot next to his body and Harry slowly joins him. “People are saying you quit the football team at school.”

Louis’ expression contorts between a mix between confusion and sadness. It ends with sadness being the feature that dominates his face. Harry regrets bringing it up.

“Things get around fast.” It's all he says and somehow Harry understands that yes, he had quit.

“I thought you loved it—well, I mean I would go to the games and you just looked very passionate about it.”

“I do love it.”

“Why'd you quit then?”

“Sometimes you have to let go of the things you love.”

Harry thinks there's more behind it but he doesn't push it. It's obviously a sensitive topic and not something Louis looks comfortable talking about. Not yet.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“My mom’s friend owns this theatre and well, we first met at one and I thought it would be cool if we could hang here.” He shrugs, seeming a bit shy as he voiced this, his smile turning to one Harry hadn’t seen before, it was almost timid. Wow, Louis Tomlinson shy? “I don't really know. It's just nice and quiet here, too.”

“And it’s perfect place to lure me into and murder me.” Harry agrees and they both burst into laughter. Louis shakes his head, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“I guess, yeah. Fortunately for you, I like you too much to kill you.” He grins at Harry, his eyes crinkling at the corners. There goes Harry’s heart. “You really lucked out here, lad.” 

Okay maybe Louis had friend zoned him but it's not like they were on a date, no matter how much Harry would have liked it to have been. He ignores the pang he feels.

“Lucky me,” He smiled softly. He was pretty lucky when he thought about it, he was here, hanging out with the most liked guy at school. He was presumably already friends with Louis. He was very lucky for once.

“It's also a nice place to hear you play. I really enjoy hearing you play.” Louis adds as he opens the basket and pulls out a huge bag. The slight sentimental moment with the mention of Harry’s playing is ruined as Harry burst into laughter at the sight of the brown bag of food that contained the famous McDonald’s logo. Louis can't help but chime in, explaining between their laughter that he is no chef and that Harry should be thanking him because he spent money. Harry rolls his eyes. Louis throws a nugget at his face.

Harry thinks this is a nice start to a new friendship.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry leaves unwillingly that night, feeling something deep in his stomach and heart that he never knew he could. He doesn’t know exactly what it is, but he does know that he likes the lightness and warmth of it all and the way that Louis is the cause; although, this factor scares him equally as much.

He spent hours sitting down on that theatre stage, on a pattern quilt and eating greasy food, while getting to know Louis Tomlinson better than he had before (or as it actually was reversed, Louis got to know Harry Styles). Any other night, there would have been the stress nagging at his mind about his audition and the action of practicing over and over again. There was always the thought of his upcoming audition when he was alone or with anyone else, constant worry crossing his mind about this song because it would determine whether or not he received the scholarship. This night however, he didn’t focus on the possible outcomes of his future but instead focused only on Louis. He focused on the way the boy’s eyes turned animated when he spoke his tales, the way his lips moved both slow and quick as the words left his mouth, the way his hands made movements in the air as he expressed himself through not only words but motion. He remained in a trance the entire night.

Louis became all he could think about.

When he finally arrived home, Harry recounted the night as a whole from the beginning to the end, as though a part of him still could not believe that this wasn’t some fantasy he conjured up in his mind, but the reality in which he just lived and experienced.

Through his mind flickered the past in which he sat on the bleachers every footie game, watching from the distance as Louis played with passion and skilled feet and scored goals that won the games and made him as popularly known as he was. He thought of watching him from afar, admiring the way Louis presented himself with such ease and humor and heart. It became bizarre to his mind as he thought of then the present, how he now was considerably friends with this boy he had watched and adored for so long.

He recalls the night, still feeling the ache in his cheeks from all the smiling, along with the ache in his stomach from all the laughing that occurred that Sunday night in the theatre. He remembers their conversations; the way that Louis showed an interest in Harry and the things he had to say and how he urged him to share. The way Louis watched him with curious ocean eyes and how his lips quirked up at the sides as he listened. He asked Harry about himself (“What else do you do when you’re not being some piano prodigy?” “Well, I—I bake?” “Is that a question or an answer?” “An answer! It’s an answer. Yeah, I bake.” “So you bake and play the piano.” “And I do a bit of cooking. I’d say I’m a pretty good cook.” “Well, you are pretty. The good cook part though—I would have to be the judge of that, Harold.”) more than he shared his own personal details. Despite it all, Harry felt flattered and warmed at the idea of Louis wanting to get to know him. 

Harry knows that they’ve only hung out once—unless their first encounter was counted—but already Harry thought so highly of him. Louis was so kind, honest, funny and charismatic. He was a force to be reckoned with. He was everything Harry wished he could be; he was everything Harry could want in a person all bundled into this tiny perfect boy. Harry kept in mind, however, that no matter how much he wanted something to happen between them, that the chances of that were so little. There really was none. 

Instead of choosing to be upset over this, Harry remembers how he feels with Louis—how alive that is—and how he would rather have him as a friend than not at all. So he does not dwell over the impossibility of a relationship but he celebrates over their new friendship and falls asleep with not just a content mind but a content heart.

 

Just as the week after the party Harry failed to attend, this week goes without much of a change. Harry doesn’t really see Louis around school and he doesn’t search for him either. Harry worries slightly about this for the first few days, because maybe he had made the worst impression and Louis was left running for the hills after they hung out or something but he knew Louis was a busy guy and it took Louis time to find him the last week, so perhaps it would be the same deal the current week. He pushed it to the back of his mind (or at least he tried) and he moved along, going as he normally did. He would have worried more about it if he had classes with Louis, because that would definitely mean the boy was purposefully avoiding him so he vowed to ignore the fears that filled his thoughts and chose to focus on his music just as before.

He really hoped it wasn’t a cycle.

On Thursday, Harry and Niall visit the shack in which their friendship had boomed. It was a small place, with square tables and plastic chairs outside. The weather was fortunately tamed at the moment so they sat there across from each other when their orders were finished and began to talk. Harry had not yet told him about the night at the theatre and he hadn’t seen him enough this week to share all the details, as Niall had a concert coming up and was ramming up as much of his own practice time as he could. Right now, Niall was shoving a fry into his mouth, chewing as he began to complain over his stand partner, claiming that he was tired of that arrogant prick and that he was close to shoving his guitar up his ass. When he stops ranting, Harry advises him that it would be best not to as he is positive there is some jail time for shoving objects up someone’s private bits. Niall laughs but finally eases up as he drinks. Harry takes the silence as an opportunity to share with his best friend how he spent his Sunday night. 

He tells him. Niall nearly chokes on his soda.

“What the fuck?!” Niall looks at Harry suspiciously, looking deeply into his eye as though he was trying to find a lie within them or somewhere deep inside him. He didn’t stop squinting. “So you—Harry Styles—went out with the Louis Tomlinson?” He can’t really blame him for having his doubts; Louis was an otherworldly human being. He was untouchable.

“Why must you use his full name? He’s just Louis.” (It wasn’t just Louis but Harry didn’t want to highlight the differences between their social statuses) Harry rolled his eyes as he shoved a fry into his own mouth. Swallowing, he answers. “No, it wasn't a date. We just hung out.” Harry pretends that it was no big deal with a shrug of his shoulders and Niall scoffs.

“This boy literally rented a theatre—”

“A friend of his mum’s owns it.”

“And he made an indoor picnic and you both just spoke alone for hours.”

“I’m not sure if McDonald’s chicken nuggets counts as a picnic.”

“You’re missing the point, Harry!”

“Listen, we just hung out.” Harry repeated. “We’re friends. And besides, you and I hang out alone and talk for hours. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“You’re right.” Niall nods, leaning forward in his seat as he took a sip from his straw. “But the difference is that you have a crush on Louis.”

Harry hates how easily he blushes, so he looks down at his food. It wasn't something he could deny for the fact that Niall had heard Harry rave about how gorgeous the boy was when they were younger and there was also the obvious part in which Harry did have a crush. It was true, he already fancied Louis before they spoke, and now that he knew the boy on a more personal level, he was a goner.

“We’re just friends,” He insists and not only is he saying it to clarify it to his best friend, but as a reminder to himself.

“Sure, be friends with the attractive footie star with the great ass who is potentially bisexual.”

Harry really hates Niall sometimes. 

Harry doesn’t reply to the blonde but instead mentally sighs as he realizes he’ll have to do a better job at hiding his feelings.

“Speak of the devil…” Niall blurts out in a whisper and kicks Harry not so innocently under their shared table and Harry’s head shoots up at the abrupt action.

He walks to them with graceful steps, legs short but strong and fast as he made his way, his hair flipping carelessly with the steps he took and with a delicate swiftness of his hand, he pushes the fringe aside from his forehead. There’s a sly smile on his thin lips before they finally open.

“Harold,” Louis’ voice sounds through the air and there is a sudden race of Harry’s heart at the greeting. Harry hated how his body reacted to the boy’s presence, his palms beginning to sweat as he finally approached their table. Damn Louis and his cute grin and eye crinkles. Damn him alright.

“Louis.”

“Niall!” His best friend chooses that moment to intervene, interrupting whatever was going on. Louis thankfully laughs at this.

“Is this the Niall you told me about?” Louis turns to Harry for confirmation and with a nod, he turns to introduce himself properly, shaking the blonde’s hand. It was all so formal and Harry found the scene in front of him so endearing and exciting. It wasn’t now just Harry who knew of his friendship with Louis, now it was a real thing as Niall saw the proof in front of him. 

“So what are you doing here?” Harry asks.

Louis has an amused expression as he gazes around them, shrugging he replies. “I’m here to get something to eat.” He says it in a matter of fact tone and Harry’s cheeks instantly blaze, feeling like an idiot. Of course he was here to eat; they were at a food shack for crying out loud! “Now that I found you though, it would be great if you gave me your number. We forgot to exchange our numbers last week.” Harry hasn't answered yet, but already Louis was pulling his phone from the front of his pocket.

“Oh yeah, of course!” He recites his number aloud as Louis types it into his phone. He promises to text him sometime later and leaves to order. While his order is being made and prepared, he joins them back at their table and they all converse. Harry is surprised at how easy this all is, sitting here and talking with his best friend and the boy of his dreams. Amazing.

“Before I go, I just wanted to let you guys know that the boys and I were hanging out soon and it would be really cool if you both could make an appearance.” Louis was inviting them both but he kept his eyes on Harry.

Harry looked at Niall to see if he agreed. His best friend looked about ready to faint or something and Harry was glad he wasn't the only one Louis had an effect on.

“That would be sick,” Harry says. Louis beams.

“Alright well I have to go, I’ll see you guys around.” 

Then he leaves.

It was a silent for a few seconds as both the best friends took time to process what had just happened.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit.”

Harry doesn't reply because his phone begins to vibrate in his pocket and he pulls it out, not recognizing the new number but knowing already it is Louis.

please dont stand me up this time !!! :( xxxxx

Yeah, Harry is a goner.

 

They begin to talk a lot. With their lack of shared classes and sometimes busy schedules with Harry’s daily rehearsals and Louis’ questionable disappearances, they text mostly. Harry doesn’t complain. 

He could be in the middle of piano rehearsal and he would bark out a laugh, needing to cover his mouth for disrupting the class, because Louis would send him some hilarious picture he saw online. He could be in passing period and Louis would send him texts complaining about the idiots that attend the school, or even some random joke or even more random pictures of like dogs in clothes. He could be at the store and Louis would send him long paragraphs where he rants or talks about the most peculiar topics, like how socks were the worst thing to be invented in the history of mankind or why tea is actually the best drink for every occasion. He could be at home and Louis would send him texts that contain images or videos of things that are going on in his life because he thinks Snapchat is pointless. Harry loves it most when he sends pictures of himself, he’s either posing with one of his younger siblings (Harry did not swoon, he swears) or he would have his signature pose, with his eyes crossed and his tongue ridiculously hanging out of his mouth. Harry couldn't be anything less than endeared.

It has gotten to the point where everyone he knows asks him to stop looking at his phone screen and to put his phone away. They have begun to ask him why he is always smiling so foolishly wide. Harry wants to explain and tell them all why, but if he were too then everyone would know something he wanted to keep hidden.

He has a thing for Louis.

If people hadn't known previously then they definitely would if he explained to everyone that the reason his dimples are always in display is because he was fond of a blued eyed boy. They would see right through it all and Harry never had been really good at hiding his emotions.

Though he did keep in mind—always—that there could never be anything between them, for it appeared that Louis’ sexuality will always be something unknown and Harry would never make any advances towards the boy. He was too awkward and too lanky and too boring. It boggled his mind that Louis had found a friend in him; he wants to ask him why but then maybe Louis would start to question his choices.

So he does nothing.

He continues to talk to Louis and enjoy their conversations. He truly does cherish their friendship. Along the way of their blooming friendship, Harry becomes attached and he cannot recall a time in which he was not talking to Louis or thinking of him. His life has just become more better.

He no longer was frightened by the unexpected, no longer did he flinch away from the idea and cower away from the world but instead he welcomed it with an embrace, because Louis was that. He was the unexpected and the unknown. Every bit of it all excited Harry and gave him something to look forward to each day and it was all so absurd because what he looked forward to was just a text. It’s crazy how crazy he was about Louis.

 

From: Lou .x

when are your piano rehearsals???:)

He answered his text with his arrangement of rehearsals each day, how Monday through Wednesday he practiced with school mates and the music class and how the rest of the week was all his solo rehearsals.

Louis replies less than a minute later.

From: Lou .x

Ok maybe ill check it out or something

And he does. Louis starts accompanying Harry to his solo after school rehearsals, expressing how much he thinks it sucks that they don’t have any classes together and he admits that he wants to talk to Harry more than just from behind his phone screen. Harry is more than delighted.

Louis arrives every rehearsal with full hands containing drinks and snacks and he is always wearing that glowing smile where he gets crinkles and Harry thinks he could be his new muse. The boy always sits on the first row, claiming there and then that he was Harry’s biggest fan, which Harry rolls his eyes to but when he turns back to playing he wears a smile. Harry was pretty sure Louis was joking about the whole being his fan thing but sometimes Harry actually believes the words because the way Louis pays attention and looks at him with what he deems is awe. He tells Louis he’s his biggest fan, which makes Louis laugh loudly and claim he doesn't do anything anymore and Harry says he’s a fan of the kind of person he is and Louis just smiles deeply at him. Harry smiles just as deeply back.

The first few rehearsals, Harry became extra cautious of his actions and the nerves brought upon by his crush’s presence made his fingers fumble on the notes and made him mess up quite a lot. However every time he wanted to groan and stop, Louis would encourage him to continue and urge him on and despite being flustered with himself, Harry did.

That was how they worked. Whenever Harry felt like giving up, Louis would push him and motivate him to better himself. Harry doesn’t really know what he does for Louis but considering he makes the boy smile and laugh often, he doesn’t stress over the question and he feels great to be contributing to some bit of happiness Louis has—if he gave him that. 

The weeks passed like that, seeing each other every Thursday and Friday. After Harry’s rehearsals they would eat together whatever food Louis supplied and talk for hours, just like the first time they hung out in the theatre. Harry likes to think it’s their thing. They usually stayed there until a teacher or janitor kicked them out, saying how it’s too late to still be on school property and they would share a look of annoyance and laugh as they were shooed out.

 

“We should really start hanging out of school,” Louis whines one day as he reached into his backpack, opening something quickly before closing his bag. Whatever he had in his hand, he shoved quickly into his mouth before drinking his water. Harry asked him about this once, and Louis replied they were just pills for the headaches. He said he gets them a lot.

They were sitting on the stool in front of the school’s piano, managing to somehow fit. “What are you thinking?” Harry wonders aloud. Louis sets his legs on Harry’s crossed ones. When Louis first starting setting his legs on Harry, he felt like his heart was going to explode along with other Southern regions.

“We never did hang out with my friends,” Louis mumbles before looking up at Harry with pursed lips, his eyebrows pinched together as he thought it over. He smiles lazily, “They’ve been wanting to meet you.”

This surprises Harry because he hadn't known that Louis’ other friends—Zayn and Liam—knew of him. The idea of meeting Louis’ friends honestly scared Harry, because he knew he would immediately start making comparisons between them and himself, and end up having a larger list of reasons why Louis and him don’t mix. 

Louis spoke often about his best friends, always recounting old memories and late night adventures and escapades they were up to back then. When he speaks about them, there’s a new kind of light in his ocean eyes—there is a fondness there, and Harry wonders how he looks when he mentions him.

“I almost forgot about the invitation you gave me and Niall,” Harry stares down at Louis’ legs that were placed over his own. His ankles were visible. How the hell did he manage to even have cute ankles?

“Zayn had mentioned last night visiting some club soon.” Louis scoots closer as he straightened his back. He was closer than before. Harry avoided eye contact because he knew that the new proximity would do something to his heart and maybe Louis would hear how he made his heart race. Louis continued, “Maybe we could join?”

“We’re minors though,” Harry points out and regrets it immediately afterwards. He hoped he didn't sound too much like a chicken or whatever.

Louis doesn't seemed bothered, if anything there’s mischief in his expression. “The boys and I know people.”

Of course they did. Harry felt like everyone knew Louis and if they didn't already, they sure would want to.

“Alright,” He nods finally. “Maybe we could invite Niall.”

“Yeah I reckon his heart was broken when we didn't get to hang out.”

“Without a doubt!”

“Did he cry?”

“I think he nearly drowned in his tears.”

Louis bursts into laughter and Harry thinks that maybe after seeing this sight already so many times, he would be used to his beauty but still, he was overwhelmed by Louis. He was too beautiful. Harry was guilty of staring and it was something he often did without realizing it. Louis was just so captivating with his feathery hair and sharp and defined cheekbones and facial features and his glossy lips. Harry had admired him from afar for so long and now that he could do it in better proximity, he took advantage of that.

They were closer than Harry had originally thought and Harry was in awe as he took in all of Louis’ close up details. He was more perfect up close.

If he hadn't been too busy staring, Harry would have noticed how silent it had gotten in the theatre and how Louis was no longer laughing but gazing at him with curiosity and confusion, his eyes intense.

His tone was soft, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Harry is finally pulled out of the trance he was in and his cheeks begin to blaze as it settles mentally that Louis had caught Harry gawking.

“I—I’m sorry.” He stammered and averted his gaze to their legs. He hasn't answered Louis’ question though and without much shame he admits, “You’re just so beautiful, Lou.”

It’s quiet.

It’s too quiet.

Harry wants to say something but he worries he’ll worsen the situation and make it more awkward for the both of them. Why wasn't Louis talking though? Harry figured he had been told that by multiple people—lots of them. Why was Harry any different? Maybe because he was a boy—a gay boy who wasn't closeted. 

His thoughts disintegrate when Louis leans forward to put a thumb under Harry’s chin, forcing the curly haired boy to look up from below and green eyes met blue.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Harold.” He whispers it.

“Nothing compared to you,” Harry shakes his head, his voice matching Louis’ soft volume.

“You’re actually more.”

It was like suddenly they both became aware of the closeness between them. Harry could feel Louis’ warm breath hitting the skin on the surface of his face; he could feel Louis’ body and he wondered if Louis could tell his hands were shaking. Louis breaks their eye contact when he glances down and Harry thinks he looks at his lips and suddenly he licks his own.

Their faces are getting closer.

Harry presses a hand down to support himself as their lips inched forward to meet and suddenly loud keys disrupt the moment, startling both the boys. Louis jumped and nearly fell from the stool. The smaller boy removed his legs from over Harry’s and laughed awkwardly.

“We should—-we should get going before they kick us out. Give the janitor a break and all that.” Louis speaks fast and nearly messes up on his words, stumbling as he took a stand.

Harry doesn't want to comment on what almost happened. The moment they had had been ruined by his own foolishness. Was that really going to happen—were they going to actually kiss? Harry decides not to make Louis uncomfortable, so he gives a chuckle and nod.

Instead of trying to kiss Louis again, he stands and dusts off his pants. Instead of trying to kiss Louis again, he follows him out of the theatre. Instead of trying to kiss Louis again, he nods when the boy says he’ll text him about the plans for the club. Instead of trying to kiss Louis again, he watches him go.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry doesn’t tell his best friend about the almost kiss in the theatre room; he doesn’t tell him because he wouldn’t want Niall to hype this event, as if were some push into creating something between himself and Louis, especially because in the end of it all Louis had still basically ran away. That last part would be too embarrassing to share, so he keeps it to himself.

Then there was Louis, who as strange as his actions were that day at rehearsals, was acting casual and nonchalant and Harry would appreciate this if it weren’t for the fact that he was angry at him for the exact same reason. He was acting like nothing had happened- like they didn’t have a moment, like they wouldn’t have kissed if Harry hadn’t been so clumsy, like nothing was close to happening in the theatre. How could he act so casual and easily forget the event that nearly took place meanwhile the thought of it was eating Harry alive? He envied at the moment how easy Louis carried himself, how he was full of ease and without a thought of worry. He wished again that he could be that kind of person instead however, he was embarrassed and shy and awkward.

(Though when Harry really thought about it, no one could be like Louis.)

(He also begins to believe maybe they have an opposites attract kind of thing going on.)

Louis didn’t mention anything of their almost kiss the upcoming days as the next rehearsals, acting so normal that it hurt emotionally and physically, if the state of Harry’s heart is anything to count for. Harry doesn’t announce this though; neither will he bring it up, because if Louis wanted to talk about it he would. Maybe Louis was embarrassed too, because he had gotten close to kissing some loser like Harry. So, with this possibility Harry lets go of what almost happened and what never would and pretends to forget about it just like he pretends that he doesn’t want to kiss Louis.

It’s hardest to forget when Louis looks at him and smiles at him with this unknown happiness in his features, like if maybe Harry were the reason behind it; it’s hardest to pretend when Louis is so close to him he could smell his mint breath and green apples shampoo. It becomes the hardest thing he’s had to do his entire life when he realizes he’s completely fallen for Louis.

He realizes it when they’re sitting in the theatre room, sitting crossed legged from opposite sides of each other and Louis begins rambling about how scared he is about the future.

“I don’t know what I’m doing with the rest of my life.” Louis gives a distressed sigh slash groan and runs his small hand through his chestnut hair, eyebrows merged together as he gave an expression of complete desperation. Harry wanted to grab his hand and promise him everything is going to be okay, but he doesn’t.

It was an expression he wore that Harry wasn’t used to, not being familiar with Louis’ downturned lip corners and deeply furrowed eyebrows. He had only recognized the expression Louis wore almost always, with the jubilant grin and amusement-filled eyes that gleamed with happiness. This was new for him.

“You have a long time to figure everything out—”

Louis cuts him off, “I don’t!” It was nearly a shout and it surprised Harry, he flinched at the helplessness of Louis’ voice, the tone wrong and not like Louis at all. He quickly apologizes at the slight outburst, but Harry pushes it aside, assuring him it was okay but it doesn't stop Louis from looking guilty.

“You have the rest of your life to figure out what you want to do and who you want to be.”

Louis mumbles something that sounds like a disagreement, saying something about how he doesn’t have time. Harry knows if he asks though, Louis would push away the subject or answer with something vague and confusing and this is the closest Louis has let him inside his mind so he doesn’t push his luck. Usually when they spoke, it was softhearted conversations and a lot of banter and messing around so the sudden shift in their conversation was different but Harry felt special that Louis chose him to speak with about his fears of the future.

Harry adds to his previous comment, “It’s okay to be scared,”

Louis looks him in the eyes. Harry doesn’t look away. It was like Louis was trying to find answers relating to his future in Harry’s eyes, or trying to find the comfort he needed. He found them both in Harry. The smaller boy’s shoulders relax and sag as he releases a shaky breath and he finally breaks the eye contact. Harry doesn’t stop looking at him though.

They're both quiet for a second, before Louis whispers, “With you, I’m not so scared anymore.”

“With me, you never need to be afraid.”

“Promise?”

Harry holds out his hand, stretching out his pinky. Louis wraps his pinky around his. Harry smiles at him softly, “Pinky promise.”

That was when he knew that he wanted to do everything possible to protect Louis from the world, that he would do everything in his power to ensure his happiness, that was when he knew Louis was the most important thing to him, beating piano.

That was when he knew.

 

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Niall gasps as Harry exits the bathroom, frowning immediately at the sight of his best friend’s outfit.

“Last time you said Louis would eat me out if I wore this same outfit,” Harry recalls aloud and Niall rolls his eyes with a scoff, pretending to not have any recollection of this.

“Harry we’re going to a club,” He rises from where he sat on Harry’s small twin bed, walking to the bathroom and beginning to fix his appearance in the bathroom mirror. “Not to mention the fact that we are going with Louis and his friends, who you are also officially meeting the first time ever.”

Harry checks his outfit once more; the regular white tee shirt he was usually wearing and a pair of some of his tightest jeans. He was quite a fan of these pants he had on, they were tight where they needed to be and made his thighs look somewhat (really) thick, which he liked. He wanted to show off his best assets tonight, blame him.

He hadn’t noticed Niall leaving the bathroom, digging inside his wardrobe and pulling out a shirt—until he does when a fabric is thrown at his face, covering his eyes and blocking his vision. Harry curses and grabs the fabric from his face and holds out the shirt out in front of him.

It was the shirt his older sister, Gemma, had given him for his birthday the previous year but something he never found an opportunity to wear. He stared at the navy blue button up covered with tiny white hearts.

“Now that’s something that would make everyone in the club eat your ass.” Niall says with a low whistle, pretending to fan himself.

“Even you?” Harry teases.

Niall grins, “You’ve converted me, Styles.”

And well, who is Harry to not wear this game changer shirt on his first night out to a club. Especially when Louis would be present.

 

As it turns out, the mysterious person Louis and his friends knew was the guard at the door, who was evidently a relative or friend of Zayn’s—Harry can’t really remember, he was more focused on how great Louis looks tonight. Louis was never one to disappoint, but this night he seemed to go the extra mile with his light blue tank top that hung low beneath his exposed collar bones and denim jacket wrapped around his small frame, and his black jeans hugging his legs so tightly Harry almost wished he were a pair of pants. It was ridiculous how ridiculously good looking Louis was, it wasn’t fair.

“Our ticket in is over here,” Louis’ friend, Zayn, announces to their small group. Instead of walking to the front of the club, where the entrance stood along with the long line of people waiting impatiently to enter, he began to lead them towards the back of the building.

“We’re going to the back of the club—what about the entrance?” Liam asks with a hint of nerves apparent in his voice, apparently this was his first time entering a club as well and it was nice to share this new experience with each other, Harry supposes and Liam was also really nice.

Zayn was intimidating as hell, with the stern look he would give Harry every time they caught each other’s eyes and how the entire night he hadn’t smiled (except when Liam had come out of his house when they picked him up along the way, but Harry assumes he was just glad to see him). This was different from the guy he saw around the school campus, because there he had at least appeared lively and energetic as he walked around with Louis and Liam. Harry has a feeling Zayn doesn’t like him and he would be lying if he said this didn’t bother him, because 1) this was his first time meeting Zayn and 2) he doesn’t recall ever shoving a stick up Zayn’s ass to make him look at him with utter annoyance. He doesn’t want to start anything though, because maybe Zayn is just having a bad night or something, so he ignores his hostility.

Liam, on the other hand, had been the opposite. When he saw Harry and Niall, he started speaking to them and made him and Niall feel welcomed to their usual trio. He was all smiles and kind words. Harry liked him immediately. They also got into a conversation pertaining to music, as Liam was a part of the school’s choir. They bonded easily and quickly. (Harry had noticed Louis smiling at the sight of their interaction and he had smiled softly back at him, it was a shortly shared moment, however, as Zayn had muttered in Louis’ ear and made him frown. Curse him, really.)

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Zayn directs this to Liam. “It’s safe.”

Harry still questioned the safety part, because usually crimes are committed in scary badly lit places and well, the back of the club appeared to be something close to a crime scene. Liam, however, seemed convinced after Zayn’s reassurance.

Harry was about to follow them but Louis pulls on the sleeve of his shirt, pulling him back from the group.

“I wanted to apologize for the way Zayn is acting,” He begins with a shake of his head and an half smile that wasn’t too happy. 

“So it wasn’t just me who noticed,” Harry gave a humorless chuckle and Louis looked down in embarrassment. “He seems good with Niall though, but then again who doesn’t love Niall.” Niall had such a bubbly personality and great character, everyone was always endeared by him and his rosy cheeks and his Irish charm.

“It’s nothing personal, H.” Louis takes a deep breath. “He’s just nervous with having you around, because well he doesn't know and trust you yet.”

“Isn’t that the purpose of tonight then?”

“Yeah, it is. It’s just—he and Liam are kind of dating, and they aren't completely out and—”

“He’s scared I’ll tell people at school,” Harry guesses aloud.

Louis nods, seeming embarrassed. “He was relenting to the idea of hanging out, because he wanted to be free to hold Liam’s hand tonight and thought he couldn't because he didn't know you or Niall, but I managed to convince him of your trustworthiness, along with Niall’s.”

Harry wonders briefly how that conversation between them could have gone. It began to all fit together, Zayn’s cold behavior and his distance towards them, and the way he warmed when Liam was near. Sweetheart, Harry recalls he had called Liam.

It made sense; Zayn was afraid.

Harry smiles tiny, “They’re cute.” He also adds, “Thank you for having the confidence in me and trusting me with this all—Zayn, too. I promise their secret is safe with me. And with Niall.”

“I know it is.” Louis smiles at him. “You don’t have to thank me for anything, especially for trusting you with this. You have a good heart.”

Harry was grateful the darkness of the night hid his face, otherwise Louis would be able to see his scarlet cheeks. He was about to reply but Zayn shouted for them at the back door, saying they could flirt some other time and needed to get their asses inside and have some fun.

Louis flips him off.

“We should get inside or something,” Louis’ voice sounded shy almost, with the same tinge of embarrassment it held the afternoon they almost kissed. Harry warms even more inside.

“After you,” He extends his open arm and Louis rolls his eyes, snorting as he calls him a gentleman. Harry smiles despite his teasing.

“Harold?”

“Yeah?”

“Nice shirt.”

Harry could only hope Niall was right about this shirt, that it worked some miracle between them. His reply is cool, “Thanks.”

Then they enter the club together.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so late. sorry about that, summer is kind of distracting. hopefully theres not too many errors. anyway, enjoy

Harry has been drinking a bit.

He’s not the biggest fan of alcohol due to the massive hangovers brought over the following day but with Zayn’s constant stares of apprehension that could could easily be confused with glares and the sight of Louis’ brazen dance moves on the club’s crowded floors, he ultimately decides he can’t deal with the night sober as he is. So he drinks.

Harry didn’t exactly have some wild idea with the way the night would roll around but he certainly didn’t expect to spend a majority of it ignoring the way Zayn bluntly showed his dislike towards his presence - and that was when the boy chose to even acknowledge him. 

Zayn would sip from his cup that was filled with hard liquor and gaze carefully at Harry, eyes continuously leveling with his appearance, somehow judging but not quite, it was something more like Zayn was analyzing his every move and word; and any sort of eye contact made with him was too serious and uncomfortable that Harry was quick to divert his eyes elsewhere (preferably to Louis, whose dance moves were getting sloppy). Harry mostly sat there in their corner table, sipping on his own drink and observing the scenes before him.

Liam and Zayn were sat next to each other beside him, sipping cautiously and if Harry was correct, their hands remained intertwined under the table the entire night and Niall was off, talking to some gal named Barbara that had caught his eyes since he entered the club and then there was Louis, who was quick to grab a drink and make his way to the dance floor. His friends didn’t seem bothered by the fact he left alone, so Harry pretended not to mind either though a part of him really wished he had stayed and spent more time with him. He knew they hung out quite frequently, but he was a bit greedy. Shame on him. However, Louis asked no one to join him and he didn’t feel like intruding on his moment, so instead he marvelled at him. Louis’ hips grinding into the air, moving left and right in sync with the beat of the rhythm. His shirt had gone up slightly, revealing a flash of tan and soft-looking skin. Harry swallowed.

He was tempted to go up, put a hand on his hip and move with him to the rhythm but he stayed sat, sipping on the terrible liquor that burned his throat. 

“Alright, I gotta take a piss.” Liam announces to the table that only consisted of himself, Harry and Zayn. Zayn stands to allow him to leave and Harry thinks he’s going to join his boyfriend to the bathroom but instead he takes a seat once again after Liam walks away.

Harry gulps harshly at his drink. He needed it.

It was just the two of them for the first time. Harry doesn’t want there to be an awkward silence between them but at the same time he doesn’t exactly know how to begin a conversation with someone who looks like he wants to strangle him. Zayn also isn’t jumping at the chance to make conversation so they both sit together. Until Zayn finally speaks.

“You don’t look like you’re having fun.” The music was booming so his voice was nearly a shout.

Harry startles at the abrupt statement then recovers, shaking his head. “I’m good.”

“You’re a shit liar.”

“Guilty.” Harry smiles tightly.

Zayn doesn’t seemed bothered that Harry isn’t really enjoying the night. He doesn’t comment on it or say any suggestions, like perhaps to go dance or to try a new drink, instead he says, “I need you to be completely fucking honest then.”

Harry stops drinking. He sets his cup down.

Zayn continues, “I need to know what is wrong with Louis.”

Wrong with Louis? Harry furrows his eyebrows, confused by Zayn’s sudden change in his expression and demeanor; his eyes hard as they focus on Harry, waiting for an answer and the concern is so prominent, that even Harry begins to worry at the unknown, wondering and searching in his mind to see if he missed something.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” He admits, frowning and turning his eyes to find Louis. 

Louis was still moving, a bit offbeat with short stumbles every other moment and that was probably due to the alcohol making it’s way into his system. He was tipsy. “I don’t - I mean, I’m not aware of anything that could be wrong. Well, he was a bit stressed over life the other week, but that was because he was nervous about life after graduation, or like the general future- at least, I think so anyway. He didn’t really elaborate. He’s not exactly… open.”

Zayn seems even more concerned after his response. “He’s been spending so much time with you lately that I figured…” Zayn releases a sigh that sounds tired. “I just worry about him. Before he quit the team, he hadn’t told us anything about it and even now he hasn’t given us an explanation as to why he left. He’s also become distant from us.” Zayn looks at Harry with a small smile - it looks a lot like sadness. “He’s spent all this time with you.”

“I’m sorry.” Harry felt the need to apologize, feeling guilty for presumably stealing their friend (and yet a part of him revelled in the idea, excited that Louis had been spending so much time with him). “He talks a lot about you guys.”

“When he’s not being distant, - which has literally only been the past weekend - he doesn’t shut up about you.” Zayn admits with a chuckle.

Harry blushes. He changes the subject, “If I notice anything serious, I’ll let you know. But… he seems fine to me.”

“Yeah, the bastard does look happy.” The dark haired boy agrees. He’s grinning fondly and they both turn their eyes to Louis’ direction. 

His movements are completely sloppy at this point, and despite his clumsy moves, there was still something very attractive in his dance and adding to that was the fact that he was belting out the lyrics to the song playing. His voice wasn’t audible however because of the loud music and Harry nearly asks the DJ to turn it down just so he could hear Louis’ soft voice.

Making himself look away, Harry decides to make clarifications with Zayn while he had the chance. “Zayn… about you and, uh, Liam - I’m not - I mean, I wouldn’t tell anybody.”

“Oh I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

“I thought - earlier you were acting like a complete ass.”

Zayn laughs. “I wasn’t scared about you telling anyone I like kissing boys. If what is said at school is true, you’re in the same boat.”

Harry blushed instantly at the indirect mention of his sexuality. He was out, of course, but it was still something he rarely spoke openly about and it wasn't something people questioned or probed him about. If Zayn knew… did Louis know, too?

“We’re sailing steady.” Harry confirms.

The boy laughs again, tiny crinkles forming at his eyes. It reminded him of Louis. “Yeah, I thought so. Anyway, I was just jealous of you.” He rolls his eyes at Harry’s mouth dropping at the reveal. “My best friend had ditched me all the time and it turns out he was spending it all with some piano prodigy, who I thus had to meet tonight. I was very jealous. I mean, look at those adorable curls.”

“You don’t need to be, we’re just pals…” Zayn scoffs after the word ‘pals’ but Harry moves past that, unsure of what it would mean. “Like I said, he talks about you guys a lot and there’s always a light in his eyes when he does. I promise I'm not trying to steal him.” He swears. “He loves you guys.”

“Who loves who?” Both boys jump at Liam’s arrival. Liam scoots into the booth, Zayn wrapping his arm around his shoulder. 

“Louis loves us, can you believe?” Zayn’s voice hold mocks and Liam rolls his eyes fondly, muttering idiots under his breath. 

Harry decides then the couple deserves some time to themselves, not with his presence around making them hold back from whatever other activities they’d wish to do. So he finishes his drink, sends them a smile and explains he’s going to explore.

Harry’s a few steps away before the two begin making out.

As soon as Harry left the couple behind, he began to slightly regret his decision, as he wasn't familiar with the whole club setting and had no idea on what he should do. He couldn't go join Niall, as he would be seen as the obvious cockblock - which was also his reasoning for leaving the table he shared with Zayn and Liam. He also considered hanging out with Louis, but he realized he couldn't spot him anymore, the smaller boy was lost in the sea of people.

Harry worried.

What if he had left for some fresh air and got ill from all his drinking, what if he got lost outside? Harry himself began to feel sick, and not from all the alcohol he had consumed already but from picturing a lonely and scared Louis, he was drunk and vulnerable. The sickness deepened in the pit of his stomach as he considered that perhaps another scenario occurred, that being Louis had met someone on the dance floor, a beautiful girl (Harry noticed some females eyeing the boy earlier when they arrived) and they had left somewhere together and Harry stopped his mind there, being unable to imagine what they would be doing.

They were things he wanted to do with Louis.

“Are you okay?” There's someone whispering into his ear, making him leave his thoughts completely. He turns around to face the stranger.

It's a man, he was tall and skinny with really big hair and warm, attentive eyes. He was attractive, definitely and he was looking right at Harry, with a smile showing that he knew. 

“E-Excuse me?” Harry finally uttered, snapping out of his daze. The guy chuckled.

“You seemed lost, or like you were looking for someone.”

“I was… But I couldn't find them, obviously - I mean, I was standing here looking like an absolute idiot.” 

“A cute idiot.”

Harry’s cheeks turn a bright red. This man was flirting with him. 

“So…” The attractive guy continues. “Are you looking for your girlfriend… boyfriend?”

“Friend.”

“But let’s just say it was the other options, what would it be…?” 

He was asking if Harry was interested in men - this guy wanted to know if he would be in search of a girlfriend or boyfriend. He was about to answer but then a warm arm is wrapped around his shoulder, the body beside him smelling of alcohol and sweat and… Green apples. Louis.

Harry's heart nearly jumps out of his chest at the relief of finding Louis - or rather of Louis finding him, he was rejoicing over the fact that he wasn't lost and not hooking up with some random chick. He's about to voice his happiness at finding the boy but Louis speaks before he could say anything.

“Nick Grimshaw, are you still trying to pick up underage boys? I'll have you know, my little Harold here is in no way interested in the elderly.”

Harry would have choked if he were drinking something, instead his jaw drops as a gasp escaped his parted lips. The attractive man - Nick - seems infuriated by Louis’ words, scowling immediately. How did they even know each other? And why would Louis say that? Also, did Louis just call him his?

“You're speaking as though I'm sixty years old.”

Louis mock smiles, “Could've fooled me.”

“Ha ha, real fucking funny, Tommo. You’re hilarious.”

“I've been known to have a great sense of humor.”

“You're such a fucking twat,” Nick spat but Louis remained unbothered by his words. “And how would you know if he was into me or not.”

Louis cocks his head to the side, his eyes twinkling as he pulled Harry closer. “Because he came here with me.”

Harry was surprised at his response, not understanding what was happening before his eyes. Nick huffed out his chest, rolling his eyes but he doesn't reply, choosing instead to walk away.

Harry remained confused at the tension there was, shocked by the confrontation he just witnessed. He doesn't get why Louis would say that, why he would appear so protective. What did it even matter to him if he were interested in the Nick guy? Why was he trying to act like some hero when Harry didn't need saving? He was perfectly fine chatting up someone, no matter the age difference. Why would Louis even care if he was going to hook up with someone or not? It’s not like they were dating and as far as Harry could remember, he didn’t exactly shout out in help or ask to be saved.

“Louis, what the hell was that?” Harry can't help the way it comes out sharp. Louis’ smirk falters. He doesn't seem as tough now that Nick walked away, he even looks somewhat flustered.

They lock eyes in the middle of the club, Harry urging for him to give him a response and Louis looking more and more like a deer caught in headlights.

“I don't - I don't know.” Louis finally admits. “I think I need some air or something…” Louis trailed off, his eyes unfocused. He drops his arm from Harry’s shoulders and takes the younger boy’s hand instead. Louis begins to walk through the swarm of dancing bodies, leading Harry outside. They reach the back entrance door they had entered the club through and Harry can't begin to wonder why they didn't leave through the front entrance, because they're already outside.

There's a slight wind that feels refreshing against his skin as it begins to cool him down, a big contrast from the warmth of the club. Louis releases a pleased sigh, letting go of Harry’s hand. There was a pang in Harry’s heart at the action. Suddenly the air didn’t feel as comforting; it became thick and heavy.

Harry never felt so cold.

The moon shines above them, barely illuminating their figures and the red neon signs on the building don't help much either. It's quiet unless the crickets were counted. 

“Louis…” Harry wanted to begin his question again, he wanted to demand an answer for Louis’ behavior, for intruding on his conversation with Nick. He had no right to do that. They were just friends for crying out loud!

Louis interrupts him though.

“Why didn't you try kissing me again?” It's whispered despite the fact that they were alone in the alley, it was almost as though Louis was afraid to say it out loud that he felt it needed to be hushed.

Harry’s head snaps up immediately. He wasn’t sure he heard Louis quite right. “What?”

Louis faces him, his eyes tired and welled with tears. “That day after your piano rehearsal, you were going to kiss me but…” He trails off once again. “You didn't try again after. Why?”

Harry’s voice is soft. “I didn't think you wanted me to.”

“Harry, all I ever think about is kissing you.”

Louis wasn't being all fun and games anymore, even the infamous “Harold” nickname was absent. Harry’s hands begin to shake. He was nervous. Of all things, the last he expected for tonight was to be standing outside alone with Louis having this conversation.

There was even a burst of butterflies in his stomach, replacing the sickness he once felt.

He ignored the butterflies, he ignored the way his heart jumped. He spoke, “Louis, you're drunk.”

It was true. Louis had drunk the entire night, one shot after the other. This was all some drunken episode, that was making him say things he didn't mean. (Though, didn't people say the truth when drunk?)

The shorter boy sighed in exasperation, running his fingers through his messy hair. He stepped closer to Harry. The distance between them lessened as Louis stepped forward a few steps more, stopping as soon as he stood in front of Harry.

A tear slips from his eye’s and he doesn’t do much to capture it. “I know I'm drunk, but I know what I want, I'm not- God, can I just-”

Louis kisses him.

Harry could taste the alcohol in his mouth but it was mixed with something sweet that he couldn't recall, maybe it was just him. Their lips had crashed together due to Louis’ clumsy final step and their teeth had hit but that had not stopped anything, only deepening the passion between them. Harry wanted to push him away, because he was drunk, because it wasn't right, because there was no way that Louis wanted him. But he didn't.

He let Louis kiss him and he hated himself for loving every minute of it, loving the way Louis kissed him softly but deeply and with determination in his every peck, loving the way that Louis held the back of his neck with one hand and the other caressed his cheek. Instead of pushing the boy away, Harry found himself bringing him close.

It was like everything had been leading up to this moment, like it were actually meant to happen, like they were actually meant to be. So Harry kissed him back, allowing for Louis to press him against the wall and kiss him as hard as he pleased. 

The kiss they shared began to slow and Louis gave Harry a few final pecks, before pulling back.  
Harry finally notices he had been crying. With the palm of his hand, he wipes Louis’ cheeks gently, cleaning his face from the tears. He leans forward and nervously presses gentle kisses to the spot Louis’ tears had once been.

“Are you kissing away my tears?” Louis asked, obvious amusement in his tone.

Harry simply kisses his cheek once more, not knowing any other way of responding. Louis smiles up at him.

“You’re so cute.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

And so Harry does, he kisses him again, Louis giggling - fucking hell - into the kiss. And then suddenly the door is pushed open and a blond head peers out.

“Oh shit - I’m sorry- fuck. Uh, you guys can continue or whatever, I’m leaving now-” Niall was scrambling for a way to clear everything but somehow made everything awkward. Way to go, Niall.

Louis steps back, as though Niall’s sudden appearance brought him out of a trance. Harry can’t waste time to make any note of Louis’ sudden behavior because he’s already walking towards the door, leaving him behind.

“It’s cool. We were about to go in anyway.” Louis glances back at Harry. “See you in there, yeah?” Harry gives a fast nod. Louis waves then and re-enters the club.

Niall and Harry stare at each other. Harry could still feel the flush in his cheeks and could still feel Louis’ lips against his own. He missed Louis’ lips already. However he doesn’t get to frown over the absence of Louis’ lips upon his own because Niall had starts clapping, startling him at the sudden applause.

“Told you that shirt would do you wonders.”

Harry can’t really argue with that.


End file.
